Captivated
by Fictionista 48
Summary: He didn't think she could be more beautiful. But unguarded, with the late afternoon sun streaming in from the window behind her, and the uncharacteristic emotion on her face, he finds he's even more captivated. Last chapter contains M rated material.
1. Chapter 1

It hadn't been much of a case, and it had wrapped quickly, with little paperwork to be completed. A new case hasn't surfaced yet, and as a result, there isn't much going on at OSP. Callen and Sam elected to work off their boredom by sparring in the gym, and made their exit a little while ago. Hetty is on the phone in her office, giving someone hell. Deeks looks up from his game of Angry Birds, first cringing, and then smiling at the sound of the tiny woman cursing in multiple languages. "Go get 'em, Hetty," he says to himself, laughing. He stretches, then looks around. Kensi is at her desk, seemingly lost in a world all her own. She doesn't even glance up at the sound of his voice.

He leans back in his chair and watches her for a moment, waiting for her to feel his steady gaze, and yell at him. She doesn't even move. She has a book in her hands, one leg drawn up beneath her. She brings one fisted hand absently to her mouth, and catches her thumbnail between her teeth, concentrating heavily on the printed words. He keeps watching her, unable to look away. He's seen her read before, usually on her computer screen, but he can't remember seeing her read a book before, and for some odd reason, it's ridiculously interesting to him.

She's been through so much lately, learning the truth about her father and the man who killed him. Being shot in her relentless pursuit of that truth. Reuniting with her mother after all those lost years. He's sure he'll never quite get the images of those days out of his head or his heart. Helplessly watching her take a bullet, seeing her lost and scared, and on the run, finally declaring her trust in him, and asking that he protect her mother. And then, seeing her bleeding and exhausted after it all came to a violent, deadly end. Now, the sight of her sitting a few feet away, placid and relaxed is a wonderful sight.

Hetty continues to curse in the background, and he can hear telephones and voices and the everyday shuffle of life inside the Mission surrounding him, but soon, everything shrinks down into this one moment in time. He watches Kensi turn the page, replacing her curled hand against her mouth. Moments later, she absently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and bites her lower lip, her eyes widening slightly at whatever scene she's reading. It occurs to him that she's totally engrossed in the novel – he assumes it's a novel – and completely unaware of her surroundings. He's never seen her so focused on something non-work related, and for once, he isn't even tempted to throw something at her.

He thinks he should feel bad for staring like an obsessed stalker, but he doesn't. He can't help it. She fascinates him in the first place, but each time she does something new or different, or out of character, it completely sucks him in. Like a little kid seeing a butterfly for the first time, or a stargazer catching a rare glimpse of a comet streaking through the night sky. And this is new and different and out of character. She's unguarded, unaware, unencumbered with worry or stress or details about a case. She's…different.

She turns another page, and he realizes she's turning them faster and faster. He wishes he could see what she's reading. There's no way he's bothering her, in order to ask. This quiet, candid moment is rare, and for once, he's not screwing it up with spoken words. Instead, he sits back and watches her, rolling a pen between his fingers and thumbs. She has her lip caught between her teeth again, her eyes darting across the page. And then, her mouth drops open slightly, and she swallows. He thinks he sees a slight tremor in her hands. He feels his brow crease as he tries to reconcile what he's seeing, with the ironclad woman he knows.

She flips the page, and sure enough, her fingers are trembling. She swallows again, and he watches in wonder as he sees something he's never seen before. A tear slips down her cheek. She blinks a few times, obviously trying to clear her vision, and another tear falls. His mouth drops open. His heart nearly stops. His breath catches in his throat at the sight. Backlit from the late afternoon sun, streaming in from a high window somewhere behind her, she looks soft and golden and vulnerable. He waits for her to look around in embarrassment and swipe away the errant tears, but she doesn't. She keeps reading, her emotions clearly written on her beautiful face.

He stops rolling the pen, going completely still. He watches from his desk, his heart thudding with things he can't quite imagine. Kensi in tears. Kensi in tears in the bullpen, in clear view of anyone who walks by. Strong, angry, readily violent Kensi. In tears. At work. Totally oblivious to her surroundings. It makes no sense, and if he wasn't here to witness it, he'd never believe it. But here he is, witnessing it. And to his disbelief, she hasn't noticed.

He watches her turn another page and swallow, sniffling slightly as she does so. She blinks away more tears, and takes a small, shuddering breath. He feels it run through him, clear to his feet. _It's only a book. She's fine. She doesn't need me to comfort her. Holy shit, she's actually human. _The thoughts roll through his mind one after the other. Still, he can't help but want to stand up and go to her, to take her into his arms and hold her. She'd likely knock the hell out of him, ask him what the hell he's doing, or what the hell is wrong with him, and storm off. And that's the last thing he wants. So, instead of doing the unthinkable, he sits back and keeps watching in wonder, as his tough as nails partner gets more and more caught up in her book.

She's incredibly beautiful this way. It's not news that she's attractive. Hell, he realized the first second he ever laid eyes on her, that she was gorgeous. There wasn't much about her that hadn't impressed him then, and two years later, he's even more impressed than he was at the start. He's learned her quirks, her habits, her likes and dislikes. He's learned when to poke at her, and when to back off or lose a limb. He's learned when to give her sugar and caffeine, and when to cut her off. He's learned not to go too far.

He's learned a few things about himself in the past two years, as well. He isn't the guy most people see him as. He's obnoxious, yes, but he's not as carefree and cavalier as it would seem. He's not out for a string of one-night stands and meaningless relationships. Not anymore. He wants more than that. And he wants it with her. That thought scares him for a plethora of reasons. The first being, she's Kensi, and she's dangerous. She's also damaged, and it's no secret that she has issues where relationships are concerned. Add to that, the fact that she's his partner, and everyone knows how well relationships between partners work, and it's an all-out disaster waiting to happen. Not that she'd let it. Sure, she flirts and tosses innuendo back and forth at will, but he doesn't imagine it's anything more than playful, innocent friendship. Their _thing_. He looks over at her, lip caught between her teeth, cheeks wet with tears, and it breaks his heart a little. He realizes he wants her more than he thought. Much more.

He hears Sam and Callen's laughter approaching, and sees Kensi take a deep breath and close the book, wiping her eyes. He looks quickly down at his phone, to his abandoned game of Angry Birds, and pretends to be involved in it.

Callen glances down on his way past. "Looks like you've had a productive afternoon, Deeks."

"Yeah, well. I didn't feel like getting the crap kicked out of me by you two, so..."

Sam chuckles and gathers his things to leave. Callen does the same, and Kensi joins in, shoving the book into her bag before standing up.

Deeks stands and stretches. "Heading home, Kens?"

She nods, shutting down her computer. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, I think so. Wanna grab a beer?"

"Nah, I think I'll just go home. I have stuff to do."

"See you tomorrow."

She smiles as she walks past, but he can't get the image of those rare, beautiful, uncharacteristic tears out of his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, favorited, alerted, etc. I'm glad you're enjoying this little fic. Im having a lot of fun writing it. One more chapter to follow...Enjoy!**

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He gathers up his things and heads out, fully intending to surf. He watches her taillights disappear, and somehow he isn't surprised at the odd sense of emptiness he feels. He arrives at the beach not long after, with little recollection of the drive over. He hopes he didn't run any red lights. His mind was definitely somewhere else.

He un-straps his board and carries it toward the tideline. Once he's on the sand, though, all he can do is sit down and watch the water. Thoughts of his partner keep flooding back, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else. He's completely lost in thought when a little blonde boy toddles up, chasing a ball. The child giggles, and Deeks is completely surprised and caught off guard to see him standing there, only a foot away, smiling at him.

"Hey, buddy, what's up? Your ball get away from you there?" He picks up the red bouncy ball and hands it to the little boy.

A truly gorgeous blue-eyed blonde runs up. "I'm sorry. The wind pushed it away from him. Thanks for grabbing it. He would never have caught up to it," she says, smiling. "Say thank you, Joseph."

The boy smiles shyly, now peeking out from behind his mother's perfect legs.

"It's cool. Hi, Joseph," Deeks says, ruffling the boy's hair. He looks up at the mother. "Cute kid. How old is he?"

"Thanks. He's two. Almost three. He loves to play ball. Wears me out."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

"I'm Lia," she says, reaching down to offer her hand.

"Marty." He shakes her hand, and Joseph immediately extends his chubby fingers towards Deeks'. He takes his little hand and laughs. "Good to meet you, Joseph. You've got a strong grip, there, buddy."

"He can't be left out of anything."

"Kids are great. So much less complicated than adults," Deeks says, wistfully, watching the boy reach for his ball with a look of pure joy on his little face.

"For sure. Do you have any?"

He laughs. "No."

"Not a kid person?" Lia asks, smiling. "Could have fooled me."

"No, I love kids. I just don't have any. Maybe someday." He gets the impression she wants to join him. There's no ring on her finger, and no man anywhere in sight. She's friendly and flirty, and definitely hot. Nice body, long, tan legs. Probably about Kensi's age.

_And there it is_. _Kensi._

Lia seems to realize she's already beat, and laughs a bit. "Does she know, or is she totally clueless?"

"Excuse me?"

She smiles knowingly. "The girl you're sitting here pining for. Does she know you're in love with her, or is she clueless?"

He cannot be that transparent. But apparently, he is. "Um…" He laughs. "She's clueless, thanks."

"Thought so. You have that _longing, aching, wondering what to do_, look. Not the, _I can't believe I've lost her forever _look_._"

"That about sums it up," he says, with a wry smile.

"It's simple. Tell her how you feel," she says, scooping up Joseph and his ball. "What's the worst that could happen?" She turns to leave, sending a smile his way.

The worst that could happen. Well, the worst thing would be losing Kensi by telling her he's falling for her, and having her shut him down. The worst thing would be wrecking their perfectly symbiotic relationship over his stupidity. Yeah, those would be the worst things that could happen. And not things he's willing to risk. He sits for a while longer, remembering the scene in the bullpen not long ago. God, she was beautiful. Sad and sexy and totally vulnerable. Aside from that day in her mother's garage, it's the closest he's ever seen her to totally open and unguarded, and he still can't quite wrap his head around what it did to him to see her that way, completely exposed.

He finally gets up and brushes off the sand, and collects his neglected surfboard. He straps it back onto the roof of the car, and fights the urge to drive to her house. He wants to see her. He needs to see her. She's probably sitting on her couch watching reality TV, or curled up with that book. Either way, he doubts she wants to be disturbed, and he reluctantly turns his car toward home. _Tomorrow's another day, Deeks. Deal with it. You'll see her soon enough_.

* * *

He walks into the bullpen and sets down his stuff. He looks around for her, but she's not here.

Sam sees him glance around, and smiles, shaking his head. "Gym."

_Shit. There's that damned transparency thing again_. He's going to have to work on that. "Thanks."

"Yep."

He sets goes to her desk and sets down the cup of coffee he brought her, and walks to the gym. He stops just outside, and - like the stalker he fears he's becoming – he watches her. She's working out on the treadmill, like she's running for her life. Her dark ponytail swishes back and forth in rhythm with her steps, brushing each shoulder blade in quick succession. Her tan skin is slick with sweat, and he can hear her labored breaths as she runs far too hard. Intense workouts are nothing new for her, but this seems extreme, even for her. He can't help but think something is bothering her. He briefly considers walking up to her and asking, but he sees her ipod clipped to her waist, and knows she wouldn't hear him anyway. That, and the fact that if she's listening to her music, she's likely trying to block out everything else. He wonders if she's trying to block out what's going on inside her head.

He turns and goes back to the bullpen.

Sam looks up from his paper. "Find her?"

"Yeah, man. Thanks. Where's Callen?"

He nods over his shoulder. "Hetty."

Deeks nods back, and picks up his coffee. He sits and sips it, half-heartedly catching up on the sports page until Kensi comes in, freshly showered, hair still damp and pulled back into a ponytail. He can't help but think she looks tired, sad, and preoccupied. She walks past to her desk and sits, closing her eyes for a moment. He watches her take a deep breath and open them, focusing on the coffee in front of her.

He smiles. "Stopped on my way in. Thought you'd like one. It's your favorite. Mocha, extra shot of espresso, double chocolate, whip, and dark chocolate shavings." he says.

She doesn't make eye contact. "Thanks. I owe you one." She picks up the coffee and takes a tentative sip, then another, and closes her eyes again.

He can't tell if she's savoring it, or fending off thoughts she'd rather not have. He stares at her, waiting. Something isn't right. There's no smile, no banter, no nothing. Something is definitely bothering her. "You okay, Kens?"

"Fine."

Her pat answer is just about to earn her a, _Don't bullshit me, Kensi_, when Eric's whistle interrupts him. Deeks chews his lip and watches her as she gets up, abandoning the coffee, and heads for the stairs. He gets up and joins her, and can't help but think she's trying to avoid him. As soon as he falls into step beside her, she takes the stairs two at a time, leaving him behind.

They're briefed and sent out to interview neighbors near a crime scene, and the drive there and back is so painfully quiet, he half expects to hear crickets chirp. She's sealed off in a world of her own, walls up and firmly in place. The total opposite of what he saw yesterday. He begins to wonder if he imagined or maybe dreamed it.

By lunchtime, he's truly worried. Not just bugged by her odd silent treatment, but honestly concerned that something is wrong. She won't give him a different answer no matter how he phrases the questions. She swears she's fine, that she slept on her neck wrong, and it's causing a headache. He wants to believe her. It's simple and easy, and with anyone else, it would be totally believable. He knows her better, though, and knows she doesn't let things like headaches affect her. At least not outwardly, which might give someone a chance to be concerned over her. God forbid that were to happen.

He's careful the rest of the day, keeping an eye on her as she keeps her distance. She's too quiet, too distracted. It isn't the current case they're working. That's too straightforward. Too typical of what they do everyday. No, it isn't work. It's something else. Something personal. She seems to grow more distant as the day progresses. There's no smile, no banter, no wiseass remarks. No punches to the shoulder, playful or otherwise. And it's driving him crazy.

When it's time to leave for the day, he watches her pack up. She looks a thousand miles away, and totally exhausted. She opens her bag to fish out her keys, and he sees the book from yesterday still tucked inside. Tangible evidence that he's not going insane or imagining things. He walks up to say goodnight, and when he places a hand on her shoulder, she shrugs away from him. _That's never happened before_.

He stares at her, his brow creasing with worry. "Kens, you sure you're okay? If your head hurts that bad, I can drive you home. I'll walk or catch a cab from your place."

"It's fine. Thanks, though." She grabs her bag and does her obvious best to slip past without touching him or making eye contact.

It's not going to happen. She's freaking him out. He catches her upper arm and holds her between himself and her desk, their denim-covered thighs pressed together, obviously too close for her comfort. He stares down at her, completely invading her personal space, giving her little choice but to look back. He stares deep into her dark, sad eyes, searching for an answer. He sees things he's rarely seen in her close up. Anguish. Pain. Worry. Sadness.

Caught in his gaze, she stares up at him, into his eyes. Her mouth falls open slightly, then she swallows. "Let go." Her voice is barely a whisper, but she clearly means it.

He stares down at her for another second, needing to say something, but having no idea what. He lets her go, and she shrugs past him and walks silently out of the building, leaving him lost and confused. He stands there at her desk, staring after her. Even once the door closes behind her, he doesn't move. He doesn't like this. Something is wrong, something is hurting her, and he needs to know what.

It's likely that the harder he pushes, the more she'll pull back. It's what she does. It's one of the hundred things about her that drive him out of his mind. That, and her smile and her eyes and her voice and her odd sense of humor. And her heart, so guarded and sacred, he can't even imagine her sharing it with anyone. He wants that more than anything. Her heart. And unlike the men of her past, he'd cherish it and protect it with his life. He only wishes he could tell her, and that she would give him the chance to prove it.

* * *

He let it go as long as he could. He left work, got coffee, drove to the beach, and went for a surf. He ran three miles when he got home, and stood under the cool spray of the shower, trying to put it all out of his mind. But he couldn't. The thoughts of her sitting at her desk yesterday, tears on her cheeks, lip caught between her teeth as she'd turned those pages just haunts him. And then there was today, and the 180-degree turn from emotional to distant. And not just distant…distant from _him_. Every interaction between them had been strained today. He hadn't been able to make her smile or laugh or even roll her eyes at him. She hadn't let him in at all. It's worse, he realizes, than when they'd first been paired up and didn't know each other at all. This isn't a step backwards in their partnership, it's an enormous leap, and he has no idea what caused it.

He sits on his couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort out why it bothers him so much. Sure, she's his partner, and it should bother him if something is wrong with her. He'd be a crappy partner if it didn't. But this is different. Personal. Between them. He can't imagine anything he's done to piss her off lately, and that wasn't it anyway. She wasn't pissed. She was…he actually has no idea. He's never seen that particular brand of emotion in her before. It was almost as if he'd hurt her somehow. The last thing on earth he would ever do.

He finally gives up on trying to put it out of his mind. It's not going to happen. She's hurt or sad or…he can't even imagine what, and he has to be there for her. He thinks he'll probably be up against a fight, but he chooses not to care. He's her partner – her friend – and he's going to be there, whether she wants him or not.

He drives to her house and sits outside, gathering the nerve to go up and knock. He's almost afraid of what he might face, of what she might be like towards him. He knows she can probably hurt him like no one else. He's opened himself up to that by falling for her. He's opened himself up to a lot of things. Frustration, hurt, longing, unattainable desire. Yep, he's in for it. He's screwed. He wonders, as he finally approaches her door, what kind of scars he'll leave here with tonight. Will they be on his heart or his soul or both? Either way, he knows they'll be permanent.

She comes to the door and looks even sadder than she had at work. And by the look of her red, slightly puffy eyes, she's been crying. It stabs him right through the heart. He wants to grab her and pull her into his arms and hold her. But he doesn't. He stands there looking down at her, feeling his heart ache.

"Deeks, hey. What's up?" She sounds like she's been caught off guard and she's embarrassed. "I wasn't expecting you to come by."

_That's obvious_. He realizes she's wearing a very familiar t-shirt. _His_ t-shirt. An old gray LAPD number that's been washed nearly to death. He'd let her wear it one day after he spilled coffee on her at work. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She pulls the black elastic out of her sloppy ponytail, and pulls the hair back into some semblance of order, before replacing it. An oddly self-conscious move he's never seen before.

"You were sort of…off today, at work. I was worried. Can I come in?"

She moves away from the door and reluctantly ushers him in. "I told you I'm fine."

"Uh, huh. Headache, right?" He sits down on the couch and stares at her. He thinks her hair would probably be down if she has a headache.

She nods, looking down. _God, she's a bad liar_.

"Kens, what's going on?" He holds out a hand to her, hoping she'll take it and sit beside him.

She ignores the hand, and sits just out of his reach. "Nothing. I have a headache, Deeks. That's all."

"You said you slept on your neck wrong. I could rub it for you."

She moves just slightly farther away. "No."

He studies her for a moment, then catches sight of the book lying on the coffee table. He nods toward it. "I saw you reading that yesterday. Good book?"

She nods, but says nothing.

He keeps his voice is soft and coaxing. "You looked upset reading it."

She swallows, looking uncomfortable, and shrugs. "Sad part."

"Yeah? Did you finish it?"

She nods, looking down at her hands in her lap.

He smiles a little, trying to draw her out. "Happy ending?"

She hesitates for several moments, then shakes her head, still refusing eye contact. She swallows hard, and then looks up at him, straight into his eyes, her voice barely a breath. "He died."

He watches her struggle with those two words; sees a sheen of tears come to her eyes, and her try to blink them away. One slips down her cheek, and he sees her fingers begin to tremble in her lap. He realizes in that moment, that this has very little to do with that book. Whatever she read strikes way too close to home. To them. It rips his heart out, seeing her like this, and all he wants to do is comfort her. He treads lightly though, knowing how easy it would be to screw this up.

"It's just a book though, right?" he says softly, touching her hand.

She takes a shuddering breath, and her words are barely audible. "He was a cop."

He feels his chest tighten. "What?"

She doesn't repeat herself, probably can't. She swallows back tears; clearly trying to reign in emotions she wants no part of. But they have her.

"Kens, what's this about? Tell me. You kept yourself distanced from me all day. "

She shakes her head, taking even breaths.

He squeezes her hand to bring her back. "Hey. Talk to me."

She closes her eyes, and the tears she's obviously been fighting so hard, slip out. She bites her lip and swallows over and over again.

He sees the pain she's in, and although he doesn't completely understand it, it breaks his heart. He tries to pull her toward him, but she pushes back, attempting to yank her hands away.

He holds onto them, hoping he doesn't hurt her. "Kensi, stop. What's happening? Tell my why you kept me at arm's length today. Why were you so distant with me?"

"We're too close, Deeks."

"Too _close_? Kensi, we're partners. Friends. We need to be close. Our lives depend on it."

Something about that statement undoes her. "They were partners," she whispers.

That simple statement makes it all perfectly, painfully clear. Suddenly, the fact that she's wearing his t-shirt makes sense. He reaches for her. "Kens…"

She pulls away. "This can't happen," she says, her voice catching. "I can't let this happen. I can't feel like this."

"Why? Who says? _The Employee Handbook? Hetty? Vance?_"

She swallows and sniffs. "Common sense."

"Not everything has to make sense. That's what you were doing today? Trying to put distance between us? To protect yourself? Backing off so it won't hurt as much if…"

"Don't," she warns, tremors visible

"_If something happens to me?_" He lays a gentle hand on her arm. "You know you're not alone in this, right? You have to know that. I'm in that same boat, partner. Right there beside you."

She looks at him like it can't possibly be true. Like she doesn't want it to be.

"I feel things for you, too, Kensi."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"I can't…we cant. One of us could…" She's having trouble getting the words out, probably past the lump in her throat. When she does, he can barely hear them. "You could die."

"Kens…"

She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, defiance on her face. "_No!_ I watched Dom die just out of my reach. There was _nothing_ I could do. Nothing. I can't lose _you_ that way. I couldn't live with that…without you."

He strokes her arm and speaks softly. "Yes, you could."

She shakes her head, looking back down. "I wouldn't want to."

He wants to hold her, to absorb her tears, to tell her he has the same set of worries she does. He wants to give them the reassurances they both want and need. But he can't. They are who they are. There can be no promises, and he refuses to lie to her.

"I'm here right now," he offers.

She shakes her head, tears dripping onto her thighs.

He lifts her chin to make her look at him, and he wipes away a tear with his thumb. "In a perfect world, what would happen right now?"

"In a perfect world, we'd both be unemployed. This damn job wouldn't exist, and we'd both be safe."

He repeats the question softly, staring into her eyes. "In a perfect world, what would happen _right now_?"

She takes a shuddering breath. "It isn't perfect."

"For just right now, let it be," he whispers, stroking back a strand of loose hair.

She stares at him, her gaze moving slowly from his eyes to his lips.

"Let it be, Kens," he breathes.

She raises her hand to his face, her trembling fingertips ghosting over his scruff. She traces a crease along his forehead, and runs a finger over one silky blonde eyebrow, before skimming his jawline with one trembling hand.

He watches her lean closer, eyes drifting closed, and his heart thumps hard, making him lightheaded. He feels her warm breath on his lips before hers settle onto them, and her hand slides to the back of his neck to tangle in his hair. He opens his mouth and captures her lips, hearing a soft whimper when his tongue delves into her mouth, languidly playing over hers. He kisses her deeply, his arms circling her, a soft moan escaping him when her tongue sweeps slowly against his. He feels her trembling as she holds onto him, pulling him closer. He never wants this to stop. He doesn't want her to pull back and say the words that would end him.

The kiss goes on and on, with his hands roaming over her back, and hers tangling in his hair and grasping his shoulders. He feels them fist into the back of his shirt as his tongue traces the inside of her lower lip, before delving back into her mouth.

She draws back breathless and shaking, and looks up into his eyes, hers dark with passion. "In a perfect world, this would be every second for the rest of our lives," she breathes against his lips. She closes her eyes and swallows hard, pressing her forehead to his. "But it isn't."

He touches her face, tracing the hollow below her cheekbone. "I don't want us to miss out on something incredible because we're afraid we might lose it, Kensi." He kisses her softly, and nuzzles into her neck. "It isn't a perfect world, but we can make it as close as possible. We just have to do it. We can't be afraid of what we might lose."

"I've never been afraid of anything. Now, I'm scared to death."

He gazes down at her, stroking her face, a smile playing over his. "What have I done to you, Fern?"

"You've made me realize what there is to lose."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"I can't think of anything worse than losing you," she says.

"I can't think of anything better than loving you." He kisses her softly. "We might have seventy years left, Kensi. We might have none. There's no way to know. But I know one thing…I want whatever time we do have, to be spent together."

She blows out a breath and drops her head to the crook of his neck, and wraps her arms around him. He pulls her against his body and holds her close, rubbing gentle, reassuring patterns on her back. "I'm done, you know. _Finished. Gone. Wrecked._ You own me, heart and soul," he whispers against her hair. He pushes her back just enough to look down into her eyes. "And if I wasn't completely ruined before, yesterday finished me off." He strokes her face, a soft smile on his. "When I saw you with that book, just totally unaware of anything else, just lost in it, I was…I was captivated. And just when I thought you couldn't possibly be more beautiful, I saw you cry. And it was the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen." He kisses her forehead and looks back into her eyes. "I'm a goner, Kens." He shrugs. "I'm yours."

She stares up at him, eyes damp. She opens her mouth to speak, but he doesn't give her the chance. He brings his lips to hers in a long, sweet kiss.

She reciprocates, tangling one hand in his hair and the other in his shirt. Then she pulls back and looks at him with sadness and fear in her eyes. "I'm so afraid of losing you," she whispers.

"I wish I could promise that you won't."

She bites her lip, and then looks up at him with new resolve. "It can't matter. I can't let it." She reaches up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "I want us. I want you."

He smiles at her before capturing her mouth with his. "I want you, too."


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm amazed by all the alerts and favorites and reviews for this story. Thanks so much! By popular demand, this last chapter is _Rated M._ If M rated material is offensive, the prior two chapters can easily stand alone. You will miss nothing by avoiding this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!**

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She can't believe this is happening. That she's letting it happen. She's spent the past two years growing steadily closer to him, trusting him, depending on him. She's known it's a dangerous thing, getting too close to her partner. Look what happened to Dom. Losing him had been devastating, and she wasn't even that close with him. Sure, they worked together every day, but he was nothing like Deeks. Hell, no one is like Deeks. Maybe that's the allure. Maybe that's why this works. He's the polar opposite of her, and he forces her to lighten up and not take herself or anything else too seriously. Somehow, his _in_sanity is her sanity in the midst of chaos.

She'd spent the past few days reading a book. Something she rarely has time for. And it had been one hell of a story. One she couldn't put down. One that haunts her, still. Two police officers – two _partners_ – and their journey through a case and a relationship, and eventually, his violent, heartrending demise. And all she could think of while reading it was that those two characters could easily be herself and her own partner. Too easily. It made her realize just how close she is to him, and how easily her heart could be ripped out if she lost him. It's a pain she can't imagine facing, a loss that would surely be the end of her. She can't even think of it without her throat constricting and her heart doing the same.

She hadn't expected him to come here tonight. She was sitting here grieving a loss she hasn't yet – and hopefully never will – experience. She had finished that damn book late last night, forfeiting sleep in the hopes that the author would show mercy in the end, and save the main character. And when she'd turned that last page sitting in bed, tears had coursed down her face in rivers, and she'd thrown the book across the room hard enough to punch a small divot into the drywall. She'd thought of Deeks, and his smile and those blue eyes, and she'd cried so hard she lost her breath. She hadn't slept, had only tossed and turned, thinking of him, of them, and all the ways he's invaded her life and her space and her heart. And she'd fully realized what it would mean to lose him.

Sometime in the night, she'd made up her mind. She can't be this close to him. He's her partner, and that's all he can ever be. He shouldn't be her friend, her confidante, her ally. He shouldn't affect her the way he does with that smile and those deep, expressive ocean eyes of his. But he does. And last night or early this morning, she decided it had to stop. Emotional distance was the best option. She vowed to herself to put away her feelings for him, and seal them away forever, like they never existed. To shut them off and never look at him the same way again. It proved to be harder than she'd thought.

She did her best all day, avoiding him when she could, shutting him out, ignoring him. But he was there, worrying over her, questioning her, and just being Deeks. He kept threatening to unravel her, without saying a word. Just that gaze and his furrowed brow was enough to dig under the stone wall she had tried so hard to erect overnight. And when he had caught her by the arms at her desk, pinning her against it with his thighs against hers, it had been all she could do not to break. To latch onto him and sob against his chest that she's terrified of losing him. She had steeled herself and gotten away before that could happen, thank God, not falling apart until she was safely inside her Cadillac and on the way home.

Then, there he was at her door thirty minutes ago, that concerned look on his beautiful face, threatening to break down that wall. She let him in against her better judgment, knowing he probably wouldn't have taken no for an answer anyway. At least, that's what she tried to tell herself. The truth was, she has no power against him. That smile, those eyes, that laugh, the sweet way he shows his concern in his features, all work against her like kryptonite, destroying every defense she has. And now, here they are, inches apart on her couch, his hands on her face, and those deep azure eyes staring down into hers. This is everything she's ever wanted, and everything she's ever feared. She wants him, she needs him, and she realizes – after reading that damn book – that she loves him. And all but one thing she's ever experienced would hurt as much as losing him.

She still can't believe she spilled her heart and soul to him a few minutes ago. She can't believe she cried in front of him, and showed her emotional side. She can't believe he feels exactly the same way for her.

"I want you, too."

His lips feel so soft and warm and right against hers. His hand cupping her face, his denim-clad knee touching her bare one, and his scent enveloping her, are all things she never dared to consciously dream of. Feeling his fingertips skim along her arm to twine her hand with his is the most incredible thing she's ever felt. His thumb rubs gently over her skin, and she knows he probably doesn't even realize he's doing it. It's just him. The sweet, soft, caring man who can't stand to see her hurt or upset. The one who wants to soothe her. She knows him well enough to know that even if he keeps silent, he worries for her when she's upset, and hurts for her when she's sad.

Seeing the look on his face a few minutes ago, as she'd revealed the pain she was in, and the reason why, had told her everything she'd been afraid to hear or even think. He has the same feelings she does. And although he's scared of losing her, he's even more afraid of losing what they might have together if they don't just give in. He pulls back from a long, deep kiss, and gazes down into her eyes, a slight smile playing over his lips.

"What are you thinking?" she asks softly.

"That this feels so much better than I had even imagined."

"You've imagined this?"

He raises his eyebrows. "You haven't?"

"I've tried not to. I didn't want…I was afraid to…"_ Damn it_. Words are so inadequate right now. How to express the want, the need, the desire? How to explain the fear that overrode that desire? "You're my partner."

He nods. A sexy smile spreads across his face. "I am. Didn't stop me from imagining you…" He pulls away the collar of her t-shirt to drop a soft kiss on her shoulder. "Without a shred of clothes on…" He slowly kisses her neck. "Lying underneath me."

Her breath catches. A delicious tremor wracks her. She swallows and draws a trembling breath. "Deeks…"

He gently nips her earlobe and whispers, "Yes, Kensi?"

Her eyes close and her head falls back, her only thoughts the feel of his lips and teeth and tongue on her skin. "I have no idea."

He chuckles, and she feels the tip of his tongue dip along the little hollow just behind her earlobe. Then he's kissing down her neck, his fingers skimming up the back of her head and tugging at the elastic. Her hair falls free, dark curls covering his face, and she feels him take a deep breath, breathing her in.

"Have I ever mentioned how good you smell? I could drown in you, I think."

"Mmm…I could say the same of you," she murmurs, bringing her lips to his neck. She kisses and sucks softly, running her tongue along his pulse point. "And you taste exactly like you smell."

He's breath grows heavy and his eyes close. "That's because you're licking off my cologne."

"Is that a complaint?"

He shudders as she catches his tan flesh lightly between her teeth. "Uh-huh. Lick anything you want."

She smiles and nips him, making him jump.

"Ow! Can we save the rough stuff for another time, Fern? This is still kind of new, don't you think?"

"You deserved that." She nuzzles against the spot she bit, kissing it softly. "And I have no desire to be rough," she whispers, drawing his earlobe between her lips. She sucks and tugs gently with her teeth, hearing his breath rush out and feeling his hands grasp her hips and pull her onto his lap.

"You're too far away," he breathes, capturing her lips as she settles her thighs on either side of his.

As he kisses her, she feels the warmth of his hands slip beneath the back of her t-shirt. _His_ t-shirt, she remembers, and feels a slight flush creep up her neck. The embarrassment is short-lived, as his fingertips skim up her spine, and come to a halt where her bra strap should be. She isn't wearing one, and from the hitch in Deeks' breath as he obviously realizes that, he seems pleasantly surprised. His hand glides up between her shoulder blades and to the back of her neck, to hold her gently in place as he kisses her. The front of her top rides up beneath her breasts, and she feels the fabric of what he's wearing tickle her stomach. It's oddly intimate, and she trembles at the feel of it. Then his hand replaces it, his fingers ghosting over her skin, and she can't help the small sound it elicits.

His touch is incredible, his kiss so slow and deep and intense that it leaves her head spinning. She can't remember the last time she felt like this. Has she _ever_ felt like this? So connected, so overwhelmed, so lost in taste and touch and scent and sensation that she can't even care that it's a bad idea. That he's her partner and that she could lose him at any moment. That he could end up tearing her heart out and leaving her even more scarred and damaged than she was before him. No. She's pretty sure she's never once been this far-gone over anyone.

She wraps her arms around his neck, and threads her hands into his hair, pulling the silky strands through her fingers. He squeezes the back of her neck, sounds of pleasure and contentment escaping him. She pulls back and looks into his eyes, touching his face, outlining his features with her fingertips, just taking him in.

He smiles a bit. "What?"

"You're beautiful."

He brushes a strand of hair from her forehead. "That's my line."

She smiles a little. "Beat you to it."

"Feels good to say it, though." He plants a soft kiss on her lips. "You're beautiful. And incredible. And special. And I never thought I'd get to tell you." He stares at her for a moment before smiling. "And I can't even begin to tell you how much I like my shirt on you."

"You saw it on me when you gave it to me."

"Not like this. Not without a bra, wearing a pair of shorts, straddling my lap," he says, before groaning softly and running his hand into her hair to pull her lips to his.

She feels his tongue move over hers, his fingers twining into her hair, and his other hand up beneath her t-shirt, slipping dangerously close to her left breast. Her breath comes fast in anticipation of his touch, her heart thundering in her chest. She slides herself further up his thighs, tucking her bare feet behind him to urge him forward. He moves a bit, and she wraps her legs around his waist, gasping at the feel of him, hard beneath her.

He moans and rocks his hips, and she fists her hands in his hair. She's never really thought about it, about what he might feel like pressed against her this way. How large or small he might be, or how badly she'd want to find out. She shifts herself, trying to bring more of him in contact with her. The denim is too restrictive. It's in the way. She wants it gone, so she can truly feel him. She reaches down and undoes the button on his jeans, her hands shaking with anticipation and nerves and want.

He catches her hands and pushes her off him, and stands up, never breaking the kiss. Once they're standing, she tugs down his zipper and slides the jeans down his hips, leaving his boxers in place. She feels him step out of the pants and catch her shorts by the waistband. Soon, they join his jeans at their feet. Then, he's pushing her down onto the cushions, pushing her knees apart, and settling himself between her thighs. His teeth nip at her neck, while his hands move beneath her top, stopping just beneath the swell of her breasts.

The feel of him pressing hard against her in exactly the right place, makes her whimper and arch into him. He pushes back, the teasing, delicious torture driving her mad. "Deeks…" She clutches at him, dying to feel his hands on her breasts.

He kisses her, his tongue doing things that leave her dizzy and panting. But his hands stay where they are. He rocks his hips, giving her just a taste of what's to come. "You feel so good, Kens. You taste incredible. Your mouth, your skin…"

"I need you," she breathes. "I want you."

He looks down at her, and pulls one hand from beneath her shirt. He traces her cheekbone, then dips down to kiss it. Then her other cheek…her chin…her nose…her eyelids. It's incredibly sweet, tempering the passion with the love he obviously feels for her. "Can we go in the bedroom? I don't really want our first time to be on the couch," he murmurs against her neck.

The _words our first time_ produce a tremor that goes straight to her toes. It makes her breath hitch, and her heart nearly stop. It puts this moment clearly in perspective, and she finds it hard suddenly to catch her breath.

He stares down at her, touching her face. "God, you're beautiful."

She can't respond. He dips down and opens his mouth, capturing her lips. She winds her arms around him, savoring his taste. His kiss is like none she's ever experienced before. Each one is like a soft lick; his tongue brushing her lips and the tip of her own tongue. It does things to her she never imagined a kiss could do.

"Do you have any idea what that's doing to me?" she asks, breathless, fisting her hands into his shirt.

"Uh-huh." He punctuates that with another kiss. "Bedroom?"

She nods, swallowing. She sits up, and he moves off of her, but doesn't let go. He catches her hand in his, twining his fingers with hers. It makes her heart constrict. She isn't used to feeling this way. She's had one-night stands; emotionless encounters that left her sexually sated, but nothing else. Just the feel of Deeks' hand holding hers trumps every sensation those other men ever gave her, combined. She can't begin to imagine what it will feel like to make love with him.

He leads her into her bedroom, and stops beside the bed. He stares down at her, holding her hand, stroking her hair back with the other. And then he cups her cheek and brings his mouth to hers in another incredible kiss, and she moans, grabbing onto him, pulling him close. He kisses her languidly for a few moments, before drawing back and looking into her eyes again. "Are you sure?"

She swallows and nods, then reaches for the hem of his shirt. She pulls it up and off, dropping it onto the floor. She bites her lip and takes him in, every inch of his tanned skin more beautiful and appealing than anything she's ever seen. Her fingertips graze his chest, ghosting over the scars left from his bullet wounds. She fights away the memory of nearly losing him, her throat constricting at the unwelcome thoughts.

He must see the hesitation and the tremor in her fingers as she touches them. He stills her hand with one of his, and tips her face up to his. "Don't, okay?" he says, his voice soft. "I'm here right now, safe."

She swallows, her heart rate stuttering with the onslaught of fears. "But…"

He shakes his head. "Uh-uh. We're together. We're here and we're together and we're safe. And if we're not tomorrow, if we end up in trouble, you know what? I'd do anything in the world to protect you. And I know you'd do exactly the same for me. You're tough, strong, and determined, Kensi. And you have my back. I know I'm safe with you. I know you'd never let anything happen to me. You know that, too."

He's right. She'd die before she let anyone take him from her. She reaches up and kisses him, and he pulls her into his arms and holds her. She rests her head against his chest, hearing his steady, reassuring heartbeat. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

"I'm right here. I'm yours, Kensi."

She swallows and pulls back, tugging him towards the bed. He stops her, his hands on her waist. He kisses her, then catches the hem of the LAPD shirt, and slowly pulls it off of her. She sees his eyes darken and dilate at the sight of her standing there in only a pair of lacy panties.

He takes her in. "God, Kensi…"

She steps closer and slips her fingers into the waistband of his plaid boxers, and slips them slowly downward, over his hips, until they fall away. He closes his eyes, swallowing hard, likely looking for restraint. She skims her hands over his body, then grasps him, her hand sliding down his impressive length.

He shudders and sucks in a breath, his hands grasping her hips. "Kens…"

She watches him, eyes closed, head falling back, his thundering pulse evident in his neck. She doesn't let go, but leans up to kiss that pulse point, while slowly stroking him. He groans, catching her hand and pulling it away. He pulls her tight against him, breathing hard. After a few moments, he seems to regain some control, and he lets go. He eyes her appreciatively, then slides his hands down her body and over her hips, taking her panties with them.

He moans at the sight of her standing naked in front of him. His fingertips ghost over the skin of her shoulders and chest, and down the valley between her breasts. It drives her mad. He's so close, but he's yet to touch them. She aches with the need for contact, and takes his hand and pulls him to the bed.

He pushes her down, lying beside her, drawing her into his arms. He kisses her for long minutes, his hands traveling up and down the length of her body, but avoiding all the sensitive, aching locations.

"Deeks," she pleads. "Touch me."

He kisses her once more, then kisses a slow trail to her neck, then her shoulder, and down her arm. He picks up her hand and kisses each fingertip, before retracing his path back to her shoulder. He sucks and kisses, biting gently here and there. He repeats the process with the other arm and hand, returning to her shoulder. It's driving her insane. The slow, sensual kisses, strategically placed away from her erogenous zones are maddening.

"Deeks…"

He gives in, and moves to her breast, kissing it as he'd kissed her mouth, with soft little licks and the brush of his lips. She gasps, tangling her hands in his hair, whimpering when he pulls her nipple into his mouth and gently sucks and nips. What she'd wanted so badly, she finds she can't quite handle. She wants him, needs him, doesn't think she can take another breath without him inside her. She tugs at his hair, but he doesn't relent. She doubts it's possible to have an orgasm this way, but thinks she's about to find out. And then his hand travels down her body, finding its way between her thighs, and the sound she makes doesn't even sound familiar to her own ears.

He removes his mouth from her breast, but leaves his hand in place, gently, slowly bringing her the most incredible, most maddening sensations she's ever felt. He kisses her again, though she's nearly panting. She wraps her arms around him and moves her legs apart, and tries to pull him on top of her.

He buries his face in her hair and whispers against her ear, "Not yet." He draws back and kisses her, then looks down in to her eyes. "Relax. We have all night, Kens."

That may be true, but he's driving her insane, making her need him and want him and need the release he's teasing her with. She clutches at him, biting her lip. She's so close. "Deeks…"

"Not yet." He kisses her again.

She's writhing beneath his fingers, panting, whimpering, nearly completely out of her mind. And then he slips them inside, and within seconds, she cries out, stars exploding behind her eyes, wave after delicious wave crashing over her. He takes her over the edge and back up again, and back over in a matter of moments. When she feels the last of it fade, he pulls away his hand and kisses her.

"Better now?" he asks softly, brushing back a strand of damp hair from her forehead.

She tries to catch her breath, and shakes her head. "I still want you."

He kisses her again. "I want you, too. And not just now, tonight, either. For as long as it's possible."

"Me, too."

He lies there, facing her, watching her come down. There's adoration in his deep blue eyes, mixed with passion and desire. She rolls onto her side to face him, her breath beginning to slow. He touches her face and kisses her, drawing her body against his. She wraps her leg around his hip, and she feels him press against her. It reignites the wanton desire immediately, despite her recent release. He rocks forward a little, the tip of him now sheathed in her. He moans, his breath catching. His eyes close, and he pulls back a bit, before rolling her onto her back.

She grasps his biceps, feeling him cradled between her thighs. He keeps his eyes closed for a few moments, probably fighting for control. When he opens them, he leans down and kisses her slowly and softly, keeping his hips still. She pulls at him, arching up against him, silently begging him to take her.

He draws back and touches her face. "We can slow down or wait, Kens. This is all still really new. We don't have to do this now."

"I don't want to stop. If we stop…" She doesn't say it, but she knows he understands. _If we stop, and something happens to one of us tomorrow, we'll never have this memory._

"I don't want you to think we have to. I don't want there to be pressure."

"There isn't. I want you. I _need_ you. I need to not know where you end and I begin. I need us together, Deeks. As physically close as we can get."

He kisses her softly, and draws back again to look down in to her eyes, tracing her cheekbone with one finger. "I love you."

She feels her throat constrict. They're the most beautiful words she's ever heard. "I love you, too."

He captures her lips with his, and settles his weight against her. His hand threads into her hair, and he nudges her thighs further apart with his. She arches up and feels him, feels his hand against her inner thigh as he guides himself into her. He rocks his hips and pushes slowly inside, and she grasps onto him, panting and whimpering, arching up to drive him deeper and deeper.

He slows her, keeping the tempo from getting too fast too soon. "I want you for as long as I can possibly have you, Kensi. Go slow," he breathes against her ear. "I don't want to just have sex with you. I want to make love to you. Let me do that."

She slows her movements, letting her feelings for him override her passion. She concentrates on each kiss, each caress, each long, slow, deep thrust. She savors the languid kisses, the way his tongue dances slowly with hers, the way he tastes and smells, and the way he feels deep inside her. But even slowly, making love with him is the most incredible thing she's ever felt, and soon, she's back on the edge of that precipice, only inches from falling off.

He seems to realize what he's doing to her, that nothing he does is going to keep her from climaxing again, and he gives in to her and increases their rhythm. He thrusts into her over and over, until she's trembling and panting, moaning his name, and digging her nails into his back. She cries out her release, arching up into him, welcoming his deep, hard thrusts, riding out the intense waves that finally carry her back down.

She hasn't begun to recover, her heart still pounds, her breath coming in ragged, uncontrolled gasps. He slows his rhythm a bit, but keeps up the long, deep thrusts. And then, before she can catch her breath, he goes from a steady rhythm to completely still, deep inside her. The sudden stillness is a sharp contrast to the intense tempo of seconds ago, and she begins to spasm and contract, as the most overwhelming orgasm she's ever felt rolls through her. Neither one moves. He holds her tight, and she clings to him, gasping and moaning, unable to get a breath as the waves of a tsunami crash over her. It seems to last forever, though it shouldn't even be possible.

It begins to recede, and she's aware of his lips on her neck, and his body beginning to move again. He kisses her, increasing his tempo, his breath coming harder and harder until he has to pull away from her mouth and suck in gasps of air. Within minutes, she feels herself back in that same place, her body tensing and aching, balancing on the edge. He falls over first, fisting his hands in the sheets at her shoulders, burying his face in her neck, and moaning her name. Feeling his release sends her back over the edge with him, their bodies pulsing, hearts racing, each calling out the other's name in desperation.

She breathes through the aftershocks, limbs trembling, heart pounding. He pushes himself off of her, and collapses beside her, immediately reaching to draw her to his chest. She settles against him, listening to the steady cadence of his heart, and his slowing breaths. She feels his body tremble beneath her, and she pulls a blanket over them and releases a contented breath.

His hands stroke the damp skin of her back, lulling her closer and closer to sleep. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm. That thing you did..."

"Stopping? Not moving?"

She nods. "Do I even want to know where you learned that?"

"I read, too, Kens. It's called a valley orgasm."

She smiles a little. "Ever tried it before?"

"Nope. I honestly didn't even think it would work."

"It worked."

He laughs. "Yeah. I got that. Pretty sure the neighbors got it, too."

She half-heartedly slaps his chest. "Shut up," she says, slightly embarrassed. "I'm glad you read."

He kisses the top of her head and holds her close. "I'm glad you read, too. If it weren't for your book, this may not have ever happened. We might have never..."

She reaches up and presses a finger to his lips, staring into his eyes. "I love you, Deeks. I don't want to think about anything else. Not tonight. I want that perfect world a little longer."

"So do I," he whispers. "I love you, too, Kensi. More than you know."

She settles back down against his chest, and falls asleep to the steady rhythm of his beating heart, their world still perfect, just for tonight.


End file.
